To Kneel At Your Shrine
by blacksouledbutterfly
Summary: 30s AU. Rachel Berry ran away from home to New York. She ends up working at a jazz club and falls for mobman Puck


Rachel Berry is seventeen when she decides to leave home. She grew up in a small town in Ohio but from the moment she turned five years old she knew that she wasn't meant for the small-town life. She told her father repeatedly when she was meant for something much bigger than what they could offer her in Ohio.

When she was little her father used to smile and just give her this look like he was waiting for her to grow out of it. But as time went on he started to realize that Rachel was completely and totally serious. So he started to worry. He started to worry and he tried to push her towards things that he thought were more suited for her. Maybe to become a nurse if she wanted a career. If not that then to find a wonderful husband to spend her life with. Which meant he started to keep a close eye on her.

So it's two months after her seventeenth birthday when Rachel decides that its time for her to get out of Lima. She'd been secretly saving the money she earned by being a waitress at the local diner until she had enough to actually leave. And then one night, after her parents go to bed, she had packs a bag with just the stuff that she needs and leaves.

She feels a little bad about abandoning her family like that but she knows she has to. If she stays she's going to feel suffocated. And if she feels suffocated and gets boxed into a life that she doesn't want to be in then she's going to start to resent her parents. And she doesn't want to have to resent her parents because she never got to do the things that she wanted to do. In the end it's for the best and she knows that.

So that's why she leaves town. She takes her things and while her parents leave she gets out as quickly as she can. And she knows it's probably crazy to head to New York. So many girls go there because they have dreams of stardom, they want to be famous. But she has confidence and she knows she has talent so she doesn't think it's going to be that much of a problem.

But New York doesn't turn out to be quite as easy as she thinks it's going to be. Every time she auditions for a part they tell her that she's got the talent but she's not what they're looking for. And the sad fact is simply that she doesn't look like the type of girl that they want on stage. She's not an ugly girl but she's not the type of pretty that they want.

So that's how she ends up working at a jazz club. Its not her dream job, not even close. She's not exactly comfortable in the dresses that she has to wear at her job- they're too fancy, too extravagant. And the cliental isn't ideal but it's a job and she gets to go up on stage and sing to the people there. And the other girls that work there are pretty talented themselves. In their own way, at least.

She actually lives with one of the other girls. Her name is Quinn and she's blonde and pretty and she's from Boston. She's two years older than Rachel. She moved to New York after her father died because her mother wanted her to follow her bliss. And she decided to take Rachel under her wing because she was young and doe-like wandering around the city on her own. And New York can be dangerous when you're on your own.

She can't say that she and Quinn are very close. They have this strange love-hate relationship where sometimes they sit and talk and laugh like sisters and other times they want to rip each other's hair out. And while Rachel is shy and quiet when it comes to men most of the time Quinn always has one suitor or another coming to take her out on a date.

It starts with Finn. He's sweet and gangly and extremely tall. He's got a sweet face that makes him look younger than he is and makes Rachel think he might be from somewhere like Kansas or Oklahoma or something like that even though she doesn't ask him where he's from. But he's sweet and bumbling and he's a little dim at times but he means so well that it can be overlooked easily.

And then after Finn there's Sam. He's blonde and he's got prominent lips. He's got this strange comedic quality about him but he's romantic and he treats Quinn like she's a queen. And even though Rachel thought that Quinn and Finn were quite adorable together she has to admit that she likes Sam.

But that's not the last time that she sees Finn. Because somehow Finn went from dating Quinn to dating the other girl that works at the club. Her name is Santana and she's a smart mouthed, sassy Latina who's pretty and knows it. And she's extremely popular with the men and the word around town is that she has what they call an 'easy virtue' which is a polite way to say that she sleeps with a lot of men.

Rachel's not quite sure how Finn ended up with her. They didn't seem like a couple that would ever get together but they seem to work somehow. Because Santana just gives Finn looks that makes him look confused and then blush and it's adorable. And since Quinn seems happy with Sam she doesn't see a problem with it. She really doesn't.

And then there's Brittany. She dances burlesque at the club on Tuesday and Thursday nights. She's tall and blonde with blue eyes and is the type of face you'd see on the movie screen. She dances better than anyone Rachel has ever met- and enjoys a good scandalous relationship better than anyone she has ever met. Because she's dating Mike, the bartender which wouldn't be so bad. Except Mike is Korean and a beautiful blonde dating an Asian man is completely unheard of.

Its 1936 and Rachel is twenty years old when arrangements change for her. Apparently Sam has some money and he's so enamored with Quinn that she can get him to do anything she wants. So one day Quinn comes home from a date with Sam and lounges out on the couch to announce that they're moving. She had told Sam that she thought it would be better for the girls if they all could live together, that it would form a closer bond. And so a week later she's packing up her things and they're moving into a bigger apartment. A three bedroom apartment which costs a pretty penny but Sam insists on paying the way.

She and Quinn get the smaller of the two rooms to themselves and Santana shares the larger one with Brittany because they're rather close. So close that people talk though Rachel tends to bite her tongue and keep all of her opinions on the matter to herself. What the two girls to is their own business- and gossiping about your co-workers is the quickest way to getting them to be your enemies.

Living with the girls is lovely and she enjoys their company except for the fact that they're all happy and in love- or at least in love- and they decide that its time for Rachel to have someone herself. She insists she's fine and the girls exchange a glance that tells her that they don't believe her. She's not so sure how she feels about that.

It's a week after that conversation when she first notices him. She's peering out from behind the curtain at the side of the stage to look out at the audience and see how many people are in the club- the amount of customers determines their pay- and she sees him sitting there. She's sure he's probably been there before but she's never noticed him until then.

He's got a strong jaw and intense eyes. His hair is shaven, which is something that she doesn't see often and he's lounging in his seat dressed in a dark, button-up shirt and equally dark pants. And somehow through the cigar smoke surrounding him and his companions he catches her attention. So when Matt, the waiter, a quiet but sweet man walks by she asks if he knows who that man is.

Matt tells her that everyone calls him Puck and that's all he knows and then smiles, excuses himself to go back to work. And she crinkles her nose at the name, thinks of sitting at home in her room back in Ohio reading Shakespeare late at night after her parents were in bed.

"Don't even think about it, babycakes." Santana's slightly gravelly tone is directly in her ear, smoke from the older woman's cigarette wafting into her face. Sometimes she wonders how she manages to make smoking look so elegant.

"Think about what?" The younger girl turns her head slightly to look at the Latina, her dark eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

"That one right there? He's trouble." She nods her head towards Puck, this slow, knowing smile spreading across her face that indicates she knows from personal experience. And she probably does. They don't say she has an easy virtue for nothing. "You're not his kind of girl, anyway. He likes himself a bearcat. And you, Ohio? You're no bearcat."

"What are you-"

"He's a cake-eater, Ohio. So don't go getting stars in your eyes." Reaching out Santana runs her fingers almost affectionately down Rachel's cheek, gives her a slow smile. "If you're looking to bag yourself a man look elsewhere. Dangerous men like him don't stick around very long. They get what they want and then they leave. Or get killed."

"Dangerous men?"

"Connected men, babycakes. Connected men."

"Oh." She may be a small town girl but she knows what Santana means loud and clear. So she clears her throat and looks back out into the room, watches the man in question through the cigar smoke. "I'm not interested in him," she says and it tastes like a lie on her tongue. "I'm simply observing that he's…visually pleasing."

"That he is, sugar. That he is. But unless you want to be another name on a long list of women who wanted him and then got hurt? I'd stay away, Ohio. Easiest way to get yourself hurt is to get your hopes up." Santana gives her an amused smile and then turns to head back towards the dressing room.

Rachel looks back into the main room of the club and watches Puck for a few moments. So, she may have told Santana that she wasn't interested in him but it was a bit of a lie. He's quite handsome and fascinating to her. And maybe he's dangerous but the truth is? That doesn't really bother her. The danger is part of the appeal. 

* * *

><p>She sings Billie Holiday's song 'What A Little Moonlight Can Do' on stage. She's in a turquoise dress that's a little lower cut than she would normally wear. But it's fit for the club so she's fine with that. She really is. She just stands up on stage and sings her song while Brittany sits at the bar and shamelessly flirts with Mike.<p>

Its silly and pathetic but the entire time she's singing she's looking at Puck and his group sitting at their table. She knows she shouldn't be, that its obvious and ridiculous and that she's watching a guy she doesn't know, that she's enamored with someone she hasn't actually met.

But the fact is that Rachel has always been a helpless romantic and she thinks that you can find the right person for you when you're not even looking. She thinks you can fall in love with someone at first sight or you can love someone you'd never have expected. Not that she expects him to look up at her on stage and fall madly in love with her but she's drawn to him in a way that she can't explain.

When the show is done for the night Santana comes over and loops her arm through Rachel's, brings her over to the table where Puck and his group are sitting. She feels like she wants to dig in her heels and stop her roommate from bringing her over there but she knows that what Santana wants Santana gets.

So the Latina drags the younger girl over to the table and then slides her arm out of Rachel's, leans over at the table with a sultry smile on her face. "Butt me." Rachel's always hated that term though she can't quite explain why.

But even though Rachel finds it a deplorable term to use Puck just smiles at her, sits back in his seat and pulls a cigarette out of his pack, holds it out to her. Santana takes it out of his hand, her fingers brushing against his, that sultry smile still on her face. And then she takes a seat in the table across from his, crosses her legs. "Haven't seen you in here for a while," she drawls as she looks directly at Puck, meets his eyes.

Puck shrugs his shoulders so casually it's almost surprising to Rachel. Leaning forward he holds out his lighter, lights the cigarette Santana has between her lips. "Been busy," he tells her easily.

Santana just smiles as she sits back in her chair. Her eyes flicker to Rachel and she motions for the younger girl to sit down and for a brief moment Rachel hesitates but she sits down on the other side of her table, folds her heads in her lap. She doesn't sit in the same sultry way that Santana is sitting though. She's never been as sultry as the Latina.

"We've missed you," Santana tells him, pouts as the smoke billows around her face.

"Yeah?" Smirking Puck sits back in his seat. "Didn't know you liked me that much."

"Oh, you're my _favorite_ costumer," Santana assures him, smiles in that sultry way of hers. Her gaze flickers to Rachel for a moment, eyes lingering on the younger girl's face before she looks back at Puck. "This is Rachel, by the way," she tells him. "We call her 'Ohio'."

Puck's gaze flickers to the other girl and linger there for a moment before he nods his head just a little bit in acknowledgement. "Well, then hello, Ohio."

Puck doesn't look at Rachel for the rest of the night but there's this warmth swirling around inside of her that she can't fight. She's not even sure she wants to. 

* * *

><p>Rachel notices Puck at the club a lot after that. She's sure from what Santana told her that he has come in before but she hadn't noticed him. But ever since that first time she noticed him she keeps on noticing him. She sees him each time he comes into the club. She sees him sitting with his friends and talking and laughing. It's impossible <em>not<em> to notice him.

He never looks at her though. Not once. He looks at the entire club but he never looks at her. At least not while she's looking at him. But mostly he pretends that she doesn't exist. Because, well, she doesn't really interest him. She's got this little mousy quality about her and he's not into mousy women.

He's always been into women that are loud and vivacious. He likes women who are sexually confident and not afraid to use their sexuality as a weapon. He likes dangerous women, adventurous women and a little thing from Ohio isn't exactly that type of girl. So no, he has no interest in the petite brunette that he sees singing up on stage day in and day out.

One day he's sitting in the club and the petite brunette is singing. He's only there with one person that time. He's there with Artie. Artie works for him- well, all of his group, actually. He's slight and bespeckled and he's got a slight limp from a battle with polio as a child but he was still quite capable of running errands. And that was what he did. He ran errands because no one expected someone like Artie to be up to something.

Artie is sitting at the table watching Rachel up on stage, his hands resting on the table, this strange look on his face like he's fascinated but maybe it's something else.

Artie realizes he's staring after a moment and looks away from the petite brunette on stage in the shimmering red dress. He looks at Puck, smiles at him. "She's pretty." He says it in the most casual voice he can muster though it might seem like he's implying something. And maybe he is but he's not sure what.

"Who?" Puck furrows his dark eyebrows at the slightly younger man. As much as he enjoys spending time at the club he doesn't often look at the girls up on stage. Unless the girl happens to be Santana. And he always knows when Santana is up on stage. Her smoky, sultry voice is unmistakable.

The truth is that for a while he and Santana had a thing going. It wasn't a relationship- he didn't do those- but when either of them had an itch that needed to be scratched they'd call the other and they'd get together. And he used to go back to Santana because it was easy. He didn't have to work to get her into bed. And she was a bit wild which was always fun. He wasn't opposed to working for sex- he got plenty when he did. But sometimes it was fun not to work for it. So sometimes he'd look at the stage because he heard her and he liked to relive the memories of how that voice sounded in the bedroom.

Ever since Santana had hooked up with the bumbling, too tall Finn Hudson though they hadn't had their fun. For some reason the Latina wanted to stay loyal to him. And that was funny to Puck. Because way back when Quinn was dating Finn? Yeah, he had talked her into his bed for a night. Neither of them ever told Finn about it and it never happened again but he felt some sort of sick satisfaction in knowing he had managed to be two women Finn dated.

Turning his hazel eyes towards the stage Puck studied the girl up there for a few moments before looking back at Artie, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. "Ohio?"

"Yeah." Artie isn't so sure about the name but figures Puck would know better than him.

"She's like a mouse."

"What?"

"She's a meek, pure little thing."

"Still pretty."

"You gotta get yourself new glasses, Artie."

"Maybe."

But really? Yeah, she is sort of pretty. In an innocent sort of way. 

* * *

><p>Everyone in the apartment is celebrating. Word had gotten around to the girls that Sam was fixing to ask Quinn to marry him. And word had gotten around because Sam told Finn and Finn told Santana. And Santana can't keep a secret for the life of her. Somehow, for reasons unknown to Rachel, Sam had managed to befriend his girlfriend's ex-boyfriend.<p>

So, once the news had reached the girls they thought it was a good idea to celebrate. They had cooked up a nice dinner and Quinn had bought champagne with Sam's money to celebrate their almost engagement. They talked and they laughed. Rachel refused to drink at all and Santana drank a little too much.

Dinner is over and Rachel is doing the dishes as usual. Brittany is sitting on the counter, her long legs swinging, bare feet curling and uncurling, her hair falling around her face in waves. She had cancelled a date with Mike just so she could celebrate with them.

"You need a boyfriend," she decides out of the blue.

Rachel pauses with her hands covered in soapy water to turn around and look at her. "I'm perfectly content with being single."

"We could try and get you a man."

"I'd prefer if you didn't."

"Ohio here is enamored with Puck." Santana is smoking, as usual, the smoke billowing around her face. She has an odd smile on her face.

"I'm not," Rachel insists as she looks back at the dishes.

"Puck?" Quinn arches one of her thin, pale eyebrows in question. The idea of someone like Rachel with someone like Puck is too strange for her to even entertain.

"You watch him every time he's there," the Latina reminds the petite brunette at the sink.

"Its nice to have something nice to look at. That's all," Rachel insists.

"Mike is nice to look at," Brittany quips.

"He is," Rachel agrees. "But I don't much fancy watching your boyfriend."

"Bearcat," Santana reminds. "Bearcat." 

* * *

><p>Everyone in the area around the club knows who Will Schuester is. They make it their business to know of every cop in the area. And Schue was a special breed.<p>

It's not a secret that his wife wears the pants in the family. She's bossy and manipulative and she's always pushing Schue to work harder, be tougher, to get a raise. And that's why Schue is such a stickler for the rules, why he's always going into the businesses in the area to try to bust them for something even though he works homicide and its not really his job.

News of the most recent homicide travels fast. They guy's name is Jeff and rumors had been circulating for weeks that he'd gotten himself in a world of hurt. Supposedly he had gone and angered a high ranking mob boss and got himself marked so no one's surprised when he's found face down in his apartment with a double tap to the back of his head. They all expected him to turn up dead sooner or later.

They're also not surprised that Schue turns up at the jazz club looking for answers. Everyone knows that mob men tend to hang out around there. So when Will Schuester walks into the club in the middle of Quinn's number no one is surprised at all. But Santana does sit up a little straighter in her seat and she reaches over, taps Rachel on the arm to get her attention.

And the two brunette's watch as Schue goes right over to the table Puck and his friends are sitting at and starts to talk to them. And at first Puck seems very, very amused. But then he just stands up and he looks like he's about to punch Schue in the face. His jaw ticks and his hand curls into a fist at his side, the muscles in his arm shaking while he tries not to actually hit the man in front of him.

Without even discussing it Santana and Rachel get up from their seats and move over towards the table. Santana goes because she doesn't want things to get messy and she's hoping she can smooth things over. Rachel's not quite sure why she goes over. She just feels the need to.

"I know you had something to do with this, Puckerman."

"You might want to check your facts again," Puck bites out. The annoyance in his tone is unmistakable. You wouldn't even have to know him to hear it. It's pretty obvious. "I was _here_ that night. Ask any of my friends."

"You weren't here _all night_," Schue insists and that was a fair enough statement to make. There was no way Puck could have been there all night. The club closed at one in the morning, after all. And they had no way of knowing what time the man had died. "You left and you killed him."

"_No_, I didn't."

"Yes, you-"

"He was with me." The words leave Rachel's mouth before she even realizes that she's going to say them. She doesn't even think about it. She just opens her mouth and the words come out and as soon as they do her heart starts to race because Schue's gaze turns to her instantly. She can feel Santana's gaze drilling a whole into her head. And she's pretty sure that Puck is looking at her, too.

"Excuse me?" Schue sounds angry like she just said the worst thing ever.

"He was with me." The whole club had heard the conversation so it wasn't as though it was completely unlikely that she would know what day they were talking about. Schue may have had many talents but being quiet while in a heated conversation wasn't one of them. They all knew that. "All night."

Schue huffs as though she had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world, looks over her tiny little body standing there in her slinky dress, looking so innocent and yet so devious at the same time. "And why, pray tell, wouldn't he have told me that?"

"Not all women are comfortable with having their indiscretions revealed to the whole world," she explains in the most calm tone that she can, folds her arms delicately across her chest. "Most of us don't like our reputation to be tainted. He was being a gentleman-"

"Gentleman nothing-"

"-because I asked him to keep it between us," she finishes as though he hadn't cut her off to begin with. "He's in here every night. It wouldn't be prudent for him to upset someone he sees on a daily basis. Especially given that all of the girls that work here are friends. And if you upset one of us you upset all of us. It would be detrimental to his relaxation to have four very angry women giving him the evil eye every night."

"Exactly." Santana slings an arm around Rachel's waist, her dark eyes narrowed as though she was daring Schue to try to prove Rachel's lying. "If you upset Ohio here then you upset all of us. We're a very close group."

Schue scoffs again and looks between Rachel and Puck, the girl in question looking cool and confident, the man looking confident as though he knows he has nothing to hide- something Schue doesn't believe for even a moment.

"Now," Santana continues in a sugary sweet tone. "You're disrupting our customers. And while we understand you're trying to find out who killed that man? That's just not something that we can allow. People pay to be here. Its only fair they get their time to relax." Turning her head just a tiny bit she looks towards Matt, nods her head slightly in Schue's direction. "Matt, darling? Would you please escort this nice man out? Ohio and I have to go back to our dressing rooms now."

"Yes, ma'am." Matt, the ever respectful, mostly quiet Matt, nods his head at the tough as nails woman and makes his way towards Schue.

"Don't touch me."

The conversation between the men falls to the wayside as Santana starts to lead Rachel backstage towards the dressing rooms, grip on the younger girl tightening. "What were you thinking?" she hisses as her even while her face remains perfectly pleasant.

"I don't know," Rachel admitted in a whisper. "It just came out of my mouth before I could stop it."

"Well, you know what this means, right?"

"No…."

"You might be on your way to being a bearcat after all, Ohio. Welcome to the club."

Rachel blanches under her normally tan skin and blinks owlishly as Santana as they disappear behind the curtains.

Puck watches the women leave and thinks maybe, just maybe, Ohio could be a little more interesting than he thought she was. 

* * *

><p>"She gave you an alibi?"<p>

Puck is sitting in his apartment with Artie. The younger man is blinking at him owlishly from behind his glasses, leaning forward in his seat as though getting closer to the older man will make what was just said make more sense to him. But from the opposite side of the table Puck is relaxing in his seat, slouched down slightly. His shoulders shrug slightly. "Yeah."

"Why would she do that?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," he admits with another shrug of his shoulders. Reaching out with one hand he takes his glass off of the table and downs the rest of the contents in one gulp, the alcohol burning slightly on the way down. "Guess Ohio is a little more interesting than I thought she was, huh?"

"Huh." Artie sits back in his seat, eyebrows drawn together in thought. He might have expected Santana to do something like that. She was always toeing the line between what was acceptable and what wasn't so for her to lie to a cop? No, that wouldn't have been surprising at all.

Of course, the lie wasn't that big of a lie. Yes, Ohio hadn't been with Puck the night that Jeff was killed but it wasn't that bad of a lie, well, he hadn't done anything. He hadn't killed that man. Other times that he had been accused of killing someone? Sure, he might have actually done it. It wasn't as though Puck had completely clean hands or anything. His hands were definitely bloodstained.

So, yes, Ohio had lied to the police but she hadn't covered up the fact that Puck had actually been the one to shoot Jeff in the head. Not that she knew that though. She had absolutely no way of knowing whether or not he did it. So it was a big risk for her to take for someone she didn't know very well at all. And that made it even more surprising.

"Why do you call her that?" the bespeckled man finally asks, lifts his own glass up and takes a sip from it.

"Call her what?"

"Ohio."

Puck shrugs a little. "That's what the girls call her." He can only assume they called her that because she was from Ohio but he doesn't know for sure. He never asked and they never offered up the information.

"Do you know what her name is?"

"Rachel." Santana had used that name just one time around him. Sort of makes him wonder if the little brunette minded the nickname that the girls had given her or if she just puts up with it so that they don't get into an argument. He knows from experience that when you argue with Santana you're going to lose.

Artie nods just a little bit. "You really don't know why she gave you an alibi?"

"Not a clue." He has to admit though- if she was trying to get his attention she succeeded. Because now the little brunette was interesting to him. 

* * *

><p>Quinn is up on stage and Rachel is in the back sitting in the dressing room. She had gone up first that night and while technically while they were permitted to leave once their set was done they all tended to stay and watch the others perform. It was a way to support each other, to promote solidarity.<p>

That night Rachel had opted to sing another Billie Holiday song- she has to admit she likes her. She sang 'If You Were Mine' and while it wasn't intentional it seemed like she couldn't look away from Puck the entire time she was singing. It wasn't as though she was singing about him, she would swear that were the case but still he was the one that she kept looking at the entire time.

She's sitting at the vanity set in front of the mirror, looking at it but not really seeing it. She's thinking about how she just lied to a police officer a couple of days before, something she never would have thought to do before but the truth was that Santana was right. She had become enamored with the dangerous man that frequently came into the club.

But she had lied to a police officer. She had given a man an alibi for a murder. And the thing was that she had no idea if she had just given him a way out of going to jail. She has no idea if he did it or not. Santana had told her that Puck was a dangerous man, that he was connected. So maybe he did it. Maybe she did it and all she went and did was give him a way out. But the words had come tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop herself. They really had.

She's so wrapped up in her thoughts that she doesn't hear Santana coming up behind her. She doesn't even notice her until the Latina's breath is warm on her ear and she's whispering, "Puck wants to speak to you out back. Bring your coat. Its chilly."

Turning her head slightly Rachel's nose almost brushes with the older girl's. "What does he want?"

"He didn't tell me, babycakes. And I didn't ask."

She doesn't like the idea of being called out to talk to him outback which is little more than an alleyway but if she doesn't go on her own she knows Santana will push her out the door and make her go. So she stands up slowly from her seat and slips her coat on, buttons it up on her way to the side entrance.

Stepping out into the alleyway it's not hard for her to spot Puck standing there in the dim light. There's smoke billowing around him and at first his back is to her. But then the door closes and he turns to look at her, the light casting shadows on part of his face. And it strikes her in that moment that he's rather beautiful though she would never say that to him. He'd probably take offense.

Crossing her arms over her chest to keep her coat more secure around her she makes her way down the three steps from the door to the ground, her heels clacking against the metal steps. Even in those heels he towers over her. "Santana told me you wanted to speak to me." Her voice sounds so much softer than she thought it would.

"Yeah." Puck nods slightly, his eyes going away from her like he's lost in thought and she can't help but watch him. She really can't. He's far too attractive for her to ignore and she's pretty sure that he _knows_ that he's attractive. A lot of the time she's noticed that attractive men know the affect they have on women. And they enjoy it. They enjoy the games that it plays with their heads. "Why'd you do that?"

"Oh." That's a question she's been asking herself since the words left her mouth. But once they had come out she had to just keep going with the lie lest she be found out. And it was surprisingly easy for her to lie. For too easy for her own comfort. "He was disturbing the customers," she tells him but she knows it's a lie. She's pretty sure he knows, too. "And it seemed as though you were going to hit him."

"I wanted to," he admits, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly into a smile though he fights to keep it from spreading across his face entirely. "But I know how to contain myself when I need to. And it's not worth hitting no cop."

"Yes, well…that's good." She watches him for a few moments, wonders if he's done with her and she should go back inside or if he has anything else to say. But for several beats he says nothing and she clears her throat to break the silence, licks awkwardly at her bottom lip painted bright red for the show. "Did you do it?"

"What?" He turns his full attention to her then, face half hidden in shadow again.

"Did you do it? Did you kill him?"

He considers telling her it's none of her business or lying to her and telling her that he did it. It would definitely help with his reputation if word got out that he _had_ done it. But in the end he shakes his head just slightly, barely enough for her to notice. "No."

"Oh. Good."

The relief in her voice surprises him so much that he turns fully so he's facing her. He flicks his cigarette away into the darker part of the alley and moves towards her. She must not have been expecting it though because she backs up, her eyes wide like a frightened little deer. Her back makes contact with the wall and he stops directly in front of her, looks down at her with a face that's completely blank. "If you thought I might have done it then why did you give me an alibi?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No, I don't know."

Puck arches one of his dark eyebrows at her, his eyes jumping across her face. She still has that panicked look in her eyes, her chest is heaving slightly beneath her wool coat. "You're fascinating." He's not even sure it's a compliment. He doesn't know how he means it. He's simply stating a fact. What he _does_ know is that his next action is very calculated, something he actually planned on doing. And that's to slip a hand to the back of her neck and draw her closer to him and then press his mouth against hers.

For a moment Rachel doesn't know what to do with herself, with her hands. Her eyes widen and her heart feels like it's going to beat out of her chest. But then she rests her hands on his shoulders and for a little while she kisses him back, her body melting against his in that alleyway. She lets him press himself against her, lets him presses her up against the wall.

But then, just as quickly as she relaxed she seems to snap out of whatever had taken over her and she pushes against him with all her might, which admittedly isn't much. But it seems to get the point across he backs off a little bit. His lips are stained with her lipstick and she's sure its smeared around her mouth.

She swallows, takes two deep breaths to calm herself down, to try to make sure her voice will be steady when she decides to talk. "I'm not quite that easy," she tells him. "You can't just kiss me because the idea comes to you. You can't just do whatever you want with me. It takes more work than that."

She ducks away from him and hurries up the stairs as quickly as she can so she can disappear into the club.

Puck laughs as he watches her scurry off. 

* * *

><p>Santana and Brittany are out of the apartment. They both have dates with their boyfriends, which means that they won't be home at all that night. It's become something that they can predict. The second either of them announces that they're going to be out of the apartment with their boyfriends the others just exchange a look because they know what that means.<p>

Quinn would be out with Sam except he had to go out of town for work. He still hasn't proposed to her yet but they all know its coming. According to Finn the blonde man in question has been looking at rings for two weeks trying to find the perfect one before he popped the question. That's the advantage to Santana not being able to keep a secret. Finn tells her everything and the Latina repeats it all to the girls. So Quinn? She's well apprised of the situation though her boyfriend doesn't know that.

Rachel is sitting in the living room with Quinn, the radio playing in the background. The brunette isn't quite sure what's playing simply because she's too busy reading _Gone With The Wind_ for the tenth time in her life. The book is long and it takes a while to read but she enjoys it so the length of time doesn't bother her.

She's about a hundred pages in when there's a knock at the door and Quinn announces she's going to get it, bounces up out of her seat and rushes to the door, her skirt fluttering around her like a living being. Its not until Quinn comes back in and leans over the back of the couch that Rachel even looks up from her book.

"You have a gentleman caller," the older girl announces. "Well, a male caller. I'm not quite sure about the gentleman part."

Rachel's eyebrows draw together and she slips the little sheet of paper she's using to mark her place back into the book before she stands. "Who is it?"

Quinn just smiles at her sagely and sits back down in the chair she's been occupying all night, crosses one leg daintily over the other but refuses to answer. Rachel shouldn't be surprised but for some reasons he still is.

She knows her roommate well enough to know that if she's not talking yet she probably won't so she doesn't push the subject. She doesn't question it. She simply makes her way back over to the slightly opened door and peers out into the hall.

To say she's surprised when she sees Puck standing there is an understatement. She's flat-out flabbergasted. She had never seen him outside of the club. She had never seen him come to speak to any of the girls even though she's well aware that he and Santana had a relationship of sorts once upon a time. "Oh…hello."

Puck smiles slightly at her hesitation, having expected a reaction like that. And he can't say that he blames her. He hasn't spoken to her since that night at the club a week ago when he kissed her in the alley. And he's made no indication in that week that he was going to talk to her at all. But the girls have the night off, the club being closed for inventory and for nearly an hour he debated whether or not he should go and speak to her.

He knows where the girls live mostly because of Finn. Somehow, and he's still not sure how, he had befriended the giant, thin man. And there were times when they talked about a whole plethora of things though more often than not Finn's topic of discussion was Santana and his relationship with her. The taller man still doesn't know of her and Puck's past and no one had any intention of telling him. They didn't need the awkwardness.

But Puck hadn't planned on going to talk to her originally. He's been spending the last week trying to decipher exactly why after that kiss she was still in his head. He had honestly thought that act would rid him of his fascination with her following her providing him with an alibi for the night of Jeff's murder but it hadn't. Somehow she had managed to make herself a permanent fixture in his brain. And the longer she stayed there the harder it became to even attempt to push her out of it.

But the club is closed and he has nothing to do that night so he had been at home and she was still plaguing his mind like a disease. No matter how hard he tried to shake her she was right there, a constant reminder of this little mousy girl that had somehow gotten enough of a backbone to lie to a police officer. And it wasn't just any lie either. She had been willing to sully her reputation just to help him and it wasn't often you found girls that did that. So when you did? They tended to stand out in your mind. And she was doing an awfully good job of standing out as of late. She stood out even when it was painfully obvious that she wasn't trying to.

"You seem surprised."

"I am." She admits it easily. What's the point in denying it?

He smiles a little though he has to admit that he was surprised when he decided to show up at her place as well. He's surprised that he's making an effort with her and he can't quite understand it but he learned a long time ago that fighting what's coming naturally to you is never worth it. "I came to ask you something."

"Oh?" She leans slightly against the door of the apartment, fingers still gripping it tightly almost like she's afraid that if she lets go something terrible is going to happen. It's sort of amusing and frustrating at the same time but he doesn't comment on it.

"I wanted to ask if you wanted to do something the next time you have the night off."

"Do something?"

"Yes. With me."

"With you?" She blinks at him dumbly for a moment, her head cocking slightly to the side, her hair falling over one shoulder. "As in a date?"

"Call it that if you want to," he responds carelessly with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "Its one night. I'm sure you can pull yourself away from this apartment for that."

"I…" She turns her head slightly to look back into the apartment like she's searching for guidance though she knows she's not going to find any in there. Even if Quinn were standing right next to her she would simply give her that sage smile and shrug, let her know without words that Rachel had to make this choice on her own. And she really wished that she could just let one of her friends make the decision for her. At least then if things got messy she could blame one of them. If she made the choice by herself she could only blame herself for the possible oncoming mess.

"Well…" She looks back at him, has to make sure her gaze stays away from his eyes. Because she has this strange feeling that if she looks him in the eye it will just make her want to tell him 'yes' without any hesitation. And hesitation is necessary. Its necessary for so many reasons, many of which he could probably figure out on his own. So she keeps her gaze on his nose so she doesn't look away entirely. That would just be considered rude. "That would be alright, I suppose," she finally says after what seems like forever.

"Alright then." He smirks at her a little, this cocky look that she is so accustomed to seeing on his face shining through. "I'll see you then."

He steps away from the door and heads for the stairs and she frowns slightly. "You don't know when I have off."

"I have my ways of finding those things out." He lifts up one hand with his back to her and waves slightly before he disappears behind the turn in the stairs.

She can't help but wonder what came over her when she agreed to go. 

* * *

><p>She has to admit that she's pleasantly surprised when he shows up on time. And she's even more pleasantly surprised when he acts quite like a gentleman all night, which isn't something, he's used to according to the talk about him. But he acts like a gentleman. He's polite and he makes her laugh. And, of course, she finds him rather attractive but she had from the moment she first noticed him in the club.<p>

He picks her up at the start of the evening and takes her back to her apartment at the end of the night. He kisses her briefly and he leaves it at that. And when the girls ask about her date and she tells them about it they exchange looks like they can't believe that it was that simple, that he was that well behaved.

But it becomes sort of a thing between them. Almost every time she has the night off they end up spending time together. And every time he makes her laugh, he makes her smile. She's not even sure exactly what their relationship is and she doesn't think it's a good idea to question it or make him question it. Things are going pretty smoothly and if she questions it then they might suddenly become tense and awkward.

She's not even sure when their relationship starts to change a little though. When the looks they give each other seem to last a little longer, when she becomes aware of his eyes on her when she's singing at the club. All she knows is that the air around them starts to shift and for a while they don't change how they actually act around each other but she knows that they both feel it. He tells her without telling her, with the tone of his voice and the way he looks at her.

They dance around each other for months in the new air that they have around them. They pretend that things haven't changed in the slightest even though they both know that it has. Until one night when instead of driving her directly home he drives back to his place. And they both play it like its completely innocent at first, that they're going to sit and drink coffee and talk like they have been doing. And maybe they both expect that to be the case in a way- her because of her innocence, him because of how she acts most of the time.

But the moment he kisses her inside of his apartment they both know it's different. They know it without sharing a single word. It's a feeling beneath their skin like something buzzing, it's like there's a new smell to the world. So the idea of sitting and drinking coffee leaves both of their minds and for the first time- but not the last- Rachel finds herself in a man's bedroom.

The nakedness of her own body in front of another makes her uncomfortable. Her skin blushes bright red and she wants to hide beneath the bed until she can be sure he's going to stop looking at her that way. But he kisses her and his hands move over her skin, his lips trailing in their wake and he has nothing but assurances for her that she's beautiful. She doubts it because, well, she's no fool. She's knows he's been with a lot of women before and that most of them are undoubtedly more beautiful than she is but after a little while she lets herself believe that she's as pretty as he says. She's never considered herself ugly but he makes it sound like she's a goddess on earth.

There's pain and then there's pleasure. There's heavy breathing and the sounds of their bodies moving together; there's whimpering and moaning and groaning and despite the chill in the early spring air she feels like she's burning up from the inside out. And when she feels herself come undone his name, his real name, leaves her lips and he grunts hers against her neck. And afterwards she's resting her head on his chest listening to his heart beating and his fingers are brushing through her hair. He doesn't ask her who told her his first name, she doesn't tell him that Artie let it slip one night. But she knows that from now on she'll never be able to call him Puck. He'll be Noah to her forever.

When she gets home to her apartment in the morning Santana is already awake and she's sitting in the kitchen drinking her coffee and smoking a cigarette. She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth like she's disappointed in Rachel when the little blonde comes in with her mussed up hair and her lipstick long gone. But Rachel knows she's smiling behind her coffee cup as she lifts it to her mouth, that deep downs he's probably thinking something ridiculous about how Rachel is finally starting to grow up.

But the fact of the matter is that for the first time Rachel doesn't care what any of her roommates think. She just wants to crawl into bed and dream about the dangerous man who somehow can be so soft and gentle with her that he seems like an entirely different person all together. 

* * *

><p>It's nearly midnight in mid-July and Rachel's back in Puck's bedroom. She's spent a lot of nights there since the first one, has become much more engrossed in his life than she ever thought she would be. She knows more than she thinks she wants to. She knows where he keeps his gun and knows the names of most of his associates. She knows when he's going to go do something particularly dangerous simply by the way he looks at her. But she's learned not to ask too many questions for her own sake and he never offers up more information than he thinks she really wants to know.<p>

But there have been plenty of times when she's tended to his wounds after he's gotten into a fight. In early April he even had her stitch up his side where a bullet grazed him rather than going to the hospital. And the entire time she was doing it her hands were shaking and she kept looking at his face for any indication that he wanted her to stop because it had to hurt so very badly. But he never complained. He sat there with his face blank like he couldn't feel anything in the world.

And once he was patched up and she cut the thread she reached up and cupped his face in her bloody hands and she kissed him like she could suck the life out of him, kissed him like that simple action could keep him from getting hurt again. But really she was kissing him because it was either that or cry. And she didn't want to cry. Because he was hurt but he would live. They both knew he would.

The wound has since healed up and she can see the pink of the relatively new scar clear on his side. It's just below his ribcage and she stares down at it like it's a living thing she expects to start moving at any moment. Sometimes she even reaches out and runs her fingers over it. And it's so sensitive that he shivers helplessly when she does.

It's an exceptionally hot evening and she's straddling his stomach, knees pressed against his sides, sweat clinging to her body which only half has to do with the heat. Their naked skin is bathed in moonlight, her finger brushing over the scar. He doesn't tell her to stop, he never does. He's quite good at letting her do almost whatever she wants to- within reason.

She knew from the moment that she agreed to go out with him that it would be dangerous. Not necessarily for her body but for her heart. Because if she let herself truly love him she could lose him so easily. He could leave her for another, yes, but it was more than that. It was the risk of him dying and leaving her behind or getting thrown in prison. They were very real possibilities that she lived with every day.

He wore that scar on his side like a badge of honor, like a mark of his survival. She looked at it as a warning, something preparing her for what may come, readying her for the day when the wound isn't just a graze and instead of patching him up and sending him to bed she'll be watching them bury him in the ground. And even though she's never voiced those fears they're always in the back of her head. And somehow she's sure he knows that. He seems to know so much about her without her saying a single word.

He puts a hand on either of her thighs, brushes his thumbs over her skin. "You're thinking too hard." It was easy for him to tell when she was. Her brow would furrow and she'd get worry lines on her forehead. And he was pretty sure she didn't even realize that her eyes got glassy and she'd tug her bottom lip between her teeth, chew on it so roughly sometimes that he was afraid she was going to make herself bleed. It was almost scary how good he had gotten at reading her. But at the same time it was comforting to know that it was hard for her to keep things from him.

"Don't die." The words come out before she even realizes they're going to but the sincerity in them doesn't surprise her at all. Her eyes lift up to meet his, worry and fear and love for him evident on her face.

And it's his turn to furrow his eyebrows. His hands move to her hips and he sits up, her body sliding down to rest in his lap but his hands stay on her hips. "I'm not going anywhere, Rachel." He'd stopped calling her Ohio months ago, saved Rachel for serious conversations like this one.

"You can't promise me that." They both know it's true but neither wants to admit it. The radio is playing in the background but for her it's nothing but static. Everything else falls by the wayside in times like this, times when the reality of their situation hits her like a sack of bricks to the stomach. And the reality is that at any moment he could be taken away from her. Because his life is dangerous and they both know it.

"I'm _not going anywhere_." He says it more firmly, like a promise and a wish all rolled up into one. Like maybe he's praying that something doesn't happen to prove him a liar even while he's trying to promise her that he's careful, that he's going to be so very careful so that he doesn't go anywhere and leave her behind.

"I need you." She's not ashamed to admit it. And maybe she should be. Maybe its sad and pathetic to be so wrapped up in another person that your happiness depends on them. Maybe it's just being in love. She's not sure because she never felt that way about someone before and feeling it about someone who lives on the edge makes her heart ache.

Her lips find his collarbone and she presses an open-mouthed kiss there. "If you died I'd be heartbroken." She whispers the words against his skin like he can soak them up like a sponge, take them inside of himself and use them for protection.

He slides one hand to press against the small of her back and hold her against him, the other going up and cupping the back of her head. Fingers tangling in her hair he tilts her head back so he can look down at her face and he kisses her. He kisses her to tell her all the things he can't tell her out loud, to let her know he has no intention of leaving her if he can help it. To tell her that while he had never been a man who believed in love that despite the fact that he's never actually told her that he loves her he does. He truly does. But sometimes words just can't leave his mouth and they're better expressed through actions.

"I'm not that easy to get rid of, Rach. You're going to be stuck with me for a long, long time." He whispers the promise against her mouth even though they both know it's a promise he shouldn't make since he could die any day. But he feels like he has to make it, to let her know that she shouldn't worry as much as she is.

She smiles like she's accepting it though she knows she will always remain dubious. She smiles because he needs it and then she rests her head against his shoulder, closes her eyes and breathes in the summer heat. His fingers stay in her hair and she swears she can feel his heart beating against her chest.

They both know that he might end up breaking that promise no matter how much he wants to keep it. They both know that its more likely to happen than not but neither of them want to admit that sad, unavoidable truth. So instead of discussing it they stay like that in his bedroom, sweat-slicked skin against sweat-slicked skin.

Somewhere in the back of her mind Rachel dimly registers 'If You Were Mine' playing on the radio. 

* * *

><em>If you were mine<br>I would live for your love alone  
>To kneel at your shrine<br>I would give up all that I own  
>Yes, even my heart<br>Even my life  
>I'd trade it all for you<br>And think I was lucky too  
>If you were mine<em>  
>- If You Were Mine- Billie Holiday <div> 


End file.
